Brain tumblers don't exist so this is the next best thing. |
Dreams and nightmares, hopes and heartaches, mental notes and inspiring quotes, earworms and eye candy. This is probably the closest anyone will get to mapping out the jumbled landscape of my mind.
*Reading (Comics): 30 Days of Night: Beyond Barrow
*Reading (Books): Song of the Spiderman
*Playing: Hakuoki: Warriors of the Shinsengumi
*Last Watched: Sympathy for Mr. Vengence
The work of Robyn Cumming
Robyn Cumming’s aesthetic can be described as Steel Magnolias gone awry, but in the best way possible. Working from the heaps and piles of the stereotypical female imagery we all know and love (or love-to-hate, depending on your own alignments), the Toronto-based artist creates a body of work exploring, exploiting, and evolving the ordinary into something a little more sinister, and far more eccentric. Her own clever bio sums it all up, quipping, “If [Cumming] were an emotion, [she] would be laughing that turns into coughing…and then dry-heave style crying.”
Decomposing iconography of womanhood and the clichés of femininity, she creates disturbing portraits of awkward, stiff figures, gorgeously delicate photographs of middle aged women, complete with mascara tears, and domestic interior landscapes of disturbed sixties suburbia, shag carpet and all.
Tell me about a time where a white child was killed and black people made a hashtag mocking their death, a Halloween costume mocking their death, or a celebration of their death in any way shape or from. NEVER!!
Black pride has never been about hating white people, but white supremacy has always been about hating black people.